


Business

by brightlycoloredteacups



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, F/M, Vikings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 08:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13407450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlycoloredteacups/pseuds/brightlycoloredteacups
Summary: Ivar and you are part of different mobs, but that doesn't stop you from working together.





	1. If I Make You Scream

You were thrown into a chair, and quickly tied to it. The bag that had been thrown over your head the moment you were shoved into a car, was ripped off. Intense blue eyes met yours. “Ivar Lothbrok,” You said smiling. You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs. It didn’t matter that you were tied up, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how worried you were. You were sure he’d kill you if given a good enough reason. “You’ve been naughty.” He tells you. “Stealing my shipments from the docks, killing my boys.”

“Oh? Were those your boys? I can’t recall. I’ve had a very successful, busy week.” He growls, walking towards you, he’s wearing his braces today, giving his legs much needed support for his own mobility.

He knows all about your successful week. Your gang had been hitting his area hard. Ivar had been two steps behind you the entire time. He motions to the goons in the room with you. They rustle about, getting a chair for him, and wheeling a tray next to you. “Uh oh,” you say, seriously getting worried now. “Toys Ivar? Really? I thought you just bludgeoned the competition to death.” Ivar smiles at you, while taking a seat. “You’re a special case.” He says, swiping some of your hair out of your face. “I want to take my time with you. I have some questions.”

           “Can’t promise I have answers.” He rolls his neck, sitting back in his seat. Damn, he looked attractive. You let your eyes travel the length of his body, not bothering to hide your appreciation. You and Ivar had started this game long ago. Both of you knew you were attracted to the other, nothing ever came of it. You were on opposite sides. He worked for Kattegat, you worked for Hedeby.

           “You’ve been getting information from one of my men. Who is it?” You move your foot to run up and down his leg. If he’s bothered, he doesn’t let you know. “Oh Ivy,” you coo. “You can’t just buy me a drink first?” His jaw clenches, you don’t get to admire the sharp angle for long as a fist gets acquainted with your face. You taste copper as blood fills your mouth. Turning to the brute that hit you, you spit. Ivar sighs and brings his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Smith, what have I told you?” He says. “She needs to earn respect boss.” Smith says. “I’m sorry,” Ivar says, leaning forward. “He’s new here. He doesn’t understand we have a rapport.” Ivar takes out a silk handkerchief and wipes the blood from your cheek and mouth, tenderly.

           “Why don’t you just shoot him?” You ask, spitting again. Ivar grunt, takes his gun out, and shoots Smith, without even bothering to look. You wince, more because of the noise than because of the act. You’ve shot faceless goons for less. “That was a good idea.” He said. You smile. “I tend to have those from time to time.”

           “Pick him up,” Ivar barks. “Make sure no one finds him. The rest of you, leave until I come for you.” You take this opportunity to look around. You were in an office, in a warehouse, you recognized it. It was one where you first met Ivar. You’d put a bullet through his shoulder, he put one through your thigh.

           When the office door closes, Ivar leans back again, putting the handkerchief away. “Where were we?” Ivar asks. “You were buying me drinks?” you say, hopefully. You know you can’t charm your way out of this one. Ivar Lothbrok is stone when it comes to women. Apparently, he’s the brother that learns from his father’s mistakes. “Sweetheart,” He says, “I really don’t want to make you scream.” He motions to his table of instruments. Some of them look sharp, like really, really sharp. Still, you’d gotten to be Don Hedeby’s right hand for a reason. You could take a little torture. You decide for one last smart comment. “Honey, you couldn’t make me scream even if you were between my legs.” You tell him. He stares at you, and you think you’ve done it, you think you’ve angered him enough he might actually kill you.

           Instead, a grin breaks over his face. “Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal.” You raise an eyebrow. “If I fuck you and make you scream, you tell me who the mole is. If you don’t scream, you get to go free, and I’ll continue to look for him on my own.” You stare at him for a moment before doubling over in laughter. “I fail to see what’s so funny.” He growls. You shake your head. “If I’d known this was going to lead to you fucking me, I would’ve done it sooner.”

           He gets up, walking over to a cabinet. You’re excited about this, you aren’t a screamer, the closer you get to orgasm, the quieter you get. You’ll win this bet easy. You look at the case he slip out. He brings it to you, opens it, and turns it around for you to see. It’s all sec toys. “You son of a bitch,” you look towards him. “You planned this.”

“No,” he admits. “More like hoped. You do tend to get yourself into some pretty scandalous situations.”

“If you’re talking about the time I got caught sucking your brother off, I just want you to know, it meant nothing.” Ivar chuckles, you both know the scandal is false, but the media loved a good story, so when your look alike was spotted in a back alley in between Hvtiserk’s legs, they ran with the story. He pulls out a long vibrator. Its head is very round, while the body is very slim. “I think I’ll start with this one.” He says, looking over it. His eyes snap to yours, the blue in them starting to disappear. You wriggle your hips in anticipation. He gets up again, and disappears behind you.

           His hands snake around your shoulder, to your neck. You look up at him, mouth open. He squeezes slightly. “Oh the things I want to do to you.” He says. He leans down and kisses your forehead before disappearing again. You hear him rustling behind you. You try to peak, but can’t turn your head far enough to see. He comes back into your line of sight, holding a rope.

           He sits placing it on the ground for now. “I think you’re wearing too much clothing.” He says. You uncross your legs and lift your hips, Ivar takes the hint and begins to undo your pants, sliding them down slowly. He leaves them around your ankles, opting to reach for the rope. He ties your legs to the chair. “So you can’t close them.” He explains.

           Without warning, he dives in for a kiss. You return it eagerly. You refused to give him complete satisfaction, so your tongues start to battle. One that ends with him jerking his head back in surprise when you bite his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Sorry,” You tease, licking his blood off your bottom lip. “I nibble when I’m horny.” He only smirks. He reaches for the vibrator, apparently done kissing you. “Ivy,” You whine. “What about my tits?” You do your best to thrust your chest out. He brings a hand to your uninjured cheek. “Oh sweetheart,” He says, sounding almost warm. “I think you forgot I’m the one in charge here.”

           He turns the vibrator on. You lean back in anticipation, opening your legs as wide as you can. The initial contact is jarring. “Shit,” you gasp, jerking your hips. “That thing is powerful.”

“It’s not even on the highest setting.” He tells you surprised. “I tend to use my fingers only.” You inform him, gritting your teeth. He chases your hips with the toy, and when you can’t escape, settles on your clit.

           You try to keep as quiet as you can, but it’s impossible. The vibrator is intense against your clit. And soon, your panting like crazy. “Mm, do you like that sweetheart?” He asks you, bringing his hand to your throat. You jerk your head, flicking strands of hair from your face to look at him. There’s no blue in his eyes. You smile, he couldn’t have all the fun. “Yes Ivy,” You say, grinding your hips against the head of the toy. He knows you’re teasing him, and flicks the vibrator up a notch. You groan, trying to lean forward to deal with all the pleasure. His hand on your throat keeps your back against the seat. “Aren’t you a little whore?” He says. “Oh yes Ivar” You moan. “Who’s whore?”

           You smile wickedly. “Don Hedeby’s,” you say. His hand tightens around your throat, and he flicks the vibrator up another notch. Your legs are beginning to shake now, your pants becoming heavier. “I said who’s whore?”

“Ivar,” you moan, “if I stuttered, that means you heard me twice.” Ivar growls, and flicks the vibrator one last notch. His hand doesn’t get to tighten around your neck, because your coming, the sensation on your clit entirely too much for you. The chair clatters with the force of your orgasm. You sear you go blind with the force of it. When you’re done, he takes the vibrator away from you, looking very disappointed. “In my defense,” you say, panting. “You said if you fucked me to make me scream. Putting a big ass sex toy to my pussy doesn’t count.”

           His eyebrow raises, his silent question clear. “Do you have a condom?” You ask. He moves towards a drawer, and pluck a condom from it. “shit, you plan for everything.” You say. “No, sometimes my brothers bring their ‘special friends’ here.”

“Please don’t tell me that was their sex box for their special friends.” You say, slightly mortified. “No, it’s my sex box for me special friends. Thank you for breaking it in for me.” You try not to think on it too hard as he drops his pants. His cock is standing proudly. Precum coating the tip. You wonder if you can convince him to let you suck it, but decide against it for now. He sits back down, unties you, and rolls the condom onto his cock. “Shit Ivar,” You say, rubbing your hands and legs. “what?” he asks. “Is that a penis or a monster?” He chuckles, yanking you to him. You crawl on his lap. You’d tease him, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Instead, he settles you on his cock. You groan at the intrusion.

           He allows you some time to get used to his size. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long. You roll your hips, releasing a groan together. As you set a rhythm, Ivar begins to kiss your neck. You bring your fingers to his hair, scratching at his scalp. “Ivar,” You moan. “Hm?”

“Will you be good to me and rub your finger across my clit?” He does as you ask, removing a hand from your hip. The moment his thumb makes contact, you squeal in delight. “Yes Ivar.” You gasp, throwing your head back. From there, things fall apart quickly.

           Your pace is now relentless as you move closer to your release. Ivar abandons your neck, unable to concentrate due to the sheer about of pleasure. Instead you press your foreheads against each other’s, breath mingling. Ivar starts to go ridged underneath you, begins to call your name. “Yes baby,” you say, placing a quick kiss to his lips. “Come for me, be good and come for momma.” That seems to do it, he lets out a particularly ragged groan and begins to jerk in the chair. The jerking proves to be your undoing as you cum too, throwing your head back in a silent scream, clawing at this shoulder.

           As you take a moment to gather yourselves, you nuzzle each other. “I didn’t scream,” You say smugly. “No, it just means I’ll have to try harder next time.” You chuckle, next time sounds divine.


	2. Date

 Ivar is unaccustomed to being thrown into the back of a van for interrogation. After all, it had only happened once, when he was younger. Back then, people underestimated him because he was a cripple, that had been a mistake only he lived to tell. Now, they were careful. His hands were secured tightly behind his back, a burlap sack thrown over his head, to his utter irritation. Did no one have regular cloth sack? Why was it always burlap?

           He didn’t bother with counting the twists and the turns, or how many stops the van made. He’d kidnapped people before, back when he was just a grunt learning the ropes. They tried to confuse you first, so you didn’t know which way was what before they dropped you off at a warehouse. He did bother listening to the chatter in front though. Sometimes goons had sweet little tidbits to exploit. Unfortunately, these goons didn’t.

           Treating him roughly, they dragged him out of the car and threw him on the ground, leaving him there. Didn’t anyone have any decency these days? Any style? If you kidnapped someone, you should at least put them on a chair, in a cold room, with a bright light on their face. Not to mention take the bag off their heads as soon as possible. People were often smothered in these things.

           The door opened not soon after. “Are you fucking kidding me?” The person mumbled. He recognized your voice and smiled. He hears you close the door and walk over to him. Ripping the burlap from his head, he blinks and looks up at you. You were inspecting the bag with distaste. “Who the fuck uses burlap anymore?” you ask, looking down at him. “Apparently, your men.” You roll your eyes and stare at him. “Will you promise to behave yourself if I take the ropes off.”

“Well, it isn’t like I’m going anywhere is it?” You ‘hm’ and crouch down. “Why am I here?” He asks. “Ready for another deal?” You meet his cocky smirk with a serious face. “As much as I would love that,” You say, throwing the rope somewhere to the side. “We have actual business to discuss.”

           You wrap his arm around your shoulders and lift him. He tries his best not the lean his full wait on you, but it’s hard without help. You’re in a small office, not unlike the one he had you in not too long ago. “What sort of business?” He asks, leaning back as you sit him in a chair. You round the desk and sit opposite him. Pursing your lips and leaning forward on your elbows, you steel yourself for what you’re about to ask him. “I need a date.” You state plainly.

           Ivar’s brow knit together. “I’m sorry?” He says. “Did you ask me out on a date? You do realize we work for two completely different mobs, right?”

“I didn’t ask you out on a date you complete ass, I said I needed one. It’s for the Policeman’s Ball.” Ivar stares at you, mouth open. When he realizes that this is in fact, not a dream, he asks, “Have you gone soft?” You roll your eyes and get out of your chair to start pacing. “You want me, a well-known mobster, to walk into a Policeman’s Ball with you another well-known mobster? Where there will no doubt be media there, and policeman.”

“Ivar,”

“Po-lice-men.”

“Ivar,”

“You know, the people that actively try to shut us down from week to week.”

“Ivar!” You shout. “I know, it sounds strange, but Don Ingstadt got us,” You pause, searching for the right word. “Diplomatic immunity.”

“Diplomatic immunity?” He repeats, not believe you. “For what? What’s going on?” You sit back down, your characteristic smirk back on your face. “It appears that someone has been playing us.” You inform him. “The same rat that helped me raid your warehouses got too big for his britches and squeaked.” Ivar puts the pieces together. “My mole is feeding information to the police.” You smile fondly at him. “You were always the smart brother.” You say dreamily. He smirks. “It’s a crooked cop,” You tell him, not giving him time to come up with a good flirt. “The police got wind of it, who knows how? Who cares?”

“Policemen always hated crooked cops more than they hate us mob-types.” He says. You nod sagely. “Because this hurts both of us, my don and your don have agreed to work together for the time being. So,” You lean back in your chair, looking at him thoughtfully. “Will you be my date to the ball?”


	3. Always Next Time

You weren’t sure how it happened, only that it happened. This manhunt for the bastard that was feeding all your dirty little secrets to the police had now turned into a competition between you and Ivar. You simply had to gather as much useless information as you could. It was dumb, but after spending nearly two hours kissing asses with nothing to show for it, you had to entertain yourselves somehow.

           To say you both were the talk of the party was an understatement. Before dinner started, there were long speeches directed towards you. It was a general rule that cops and mobsters didn’t mix, but this was an exception. There were people out there even worse than you and Ivar, and…and something. You zoned out after the first three minutes of the speech.

           When you both arrived, fashionably late of course, the media had an absolute field day. They crowded you the moment you two sat down. It was a jumble of questions all at once. The only one you bothered answer was ‘why were you two here’? To turn over a new leaf, of course. It was completely ridiculous lie, but it was effective. You continued to say you were both victims of circumstance, you didn’t realize how badly you were hurting innocent people. You both had to duck your heads from time to time to control the laughter bubbling within you.

           The media ate it up like flies on shit. By the time the eleven o’ clock news rolled around, your faces were splashed on every media outlet the city had. It was always a dangerous gamble to play with the media. Anyone intelligent would be able to see right through your bullshit. It was the idiots you two would have to watch for. Sometimes new blood liked to go off halfcocked to make a name for themselves. Take out traitors as it were. No doubt, in smaller, unimportant circles, you two would be labeled as such. A calculated risk you both decided to take during your planning.

           Planning everything out with Ivar had been two parts headache and one part pleasure. You argued every idea, pointed out every hole, yelled and screamed at each other. You spent long hours at a time with each other, but in the end, it had all worked out perfectly. A little too perfect, if one were to ask you. So far, there had been no risks.

           The cops were wary of you at first, so you had to rely on the men you place around the party to get information. They weren’t the best at it, but they did reveal juicy secrets to be exploited later. As the night wore on, and the booze got into their system, they warmed to you little. Of course, with booze came lose tongues.

That was how you found yourself in the middle of the dancefloor, with a particularly handsy cop. You were silently cursing Ivar for goading you into this. “If you don’t behave,” You growl, removing the cop’s hand from your ass. “What?” Says the cop, giving you a lascivious grin. “You’ll punish me?”

“No, I’ll leave you here.” You say, skin crawling. You gave a glance to Ivar. It gave you a sick sort of pleasure to see he wasn’t doing much better. He was surrounded by women, and a man or two, all vying for his attention. He looked panicked, poor thing.  But mainly irritated and ready to start throwing things. “You know,” The cop says, giving your ass another squeeze. “There’s a room upstairs. We could disappear for some fun.”

“Ok,” You say, disentangling yourself from him, resisting the urge to acquaint your fist with his face. “It’s been fun George-”

“Jerry,” He corrects. You pat his cheek. “Whatever, but you run along now and go feel up someone else.” You turn him around a push him in a new direction. You think about going to save Ivar, but he did make a comment on your shoe choices earlier, so you head to the bar. He can suffer a little longer.

           You sit on the stool in the farthest corner. It gives you a good view of the room. Neither of you had expected anything to happen tonight. It would be too convenient. This was a waiting game for right now. But you were patient. It was Ivar you were worried about. You remember the early days, both of you were fresh faced and ready to prove yourselves. Ivar quickly built up a reputation for impulsive violence. You simply did what you were told and did it well. Those early days had been fun, dodging each other’s bullets, all the while flirting as those who got hit screamed around you. It said something about the state of your mental health, you were sure, but you never thought to analyze it.

           Eventually, Ivar manages to disentangle himself from his posse. He comes to sit next to you, glaring. “Can I help you?” You ask. “Have you gotten anything?”

“Ivar,” You say, “We talked about this, we knew we weren’t going to catch him tonight.”

“Yes, however, we shouldn’t have so little.”

“He’s being cautious, trying to work out our plan.”

“Well, he needs to work faster.” You chuckle and order him a drink. You both sit, relaying all the useless crap you’ve learned. It was shocking how many people were having affairs, getting divorces, sad even. You supposed everyone had their own demons, you just wished they were interesting ones.

           You jump when you feel Ivar’s hand on your thigh. “Really?” You say, looking at him with a smirk. He feigns innocence. “What?”

“Here? When we’re supposed to be working?”

“We’ve been here for hours, with nothing to show for it.” His hand moves further up your thigh. “I hear there’s a room upstairs.” You can’t help the laugh that bursts forth. “Funny,” you say. “I heard the exact same thing.”

* * *

           It doesn’t take long to find the room and slip into it. It’s a sort of storage closet for desks and chairs, but it doesn’t matter, it’s private and easily locked from the inside. You flip the lights on and turn to Ivar. The hunger for him in your eyes thrills him. If he had to be honest with himself, he thought about you quite a bit, about the things that he wanted to do to you.

           You roll a chair up to a desk and sit on it, smiling at Ivar invitingly. He sits, excited for what’s to come. You had always been exciting to him. Cocksure in everything you did, you had a swagger not even his brothers could match. You took risks others didn’t think to take and somehow always managed to come out on top. Ivar wanted to dominate you in every way possible, but you seemed indominable. It irritated him at first, but now, it was a challenge.

“Same rules as before?” He asked, kissing his way up your thighs. “If I make you scream and all that?” You chuckle, but decline to answer. He lifts the hem of your dress and opens your legs, only to find you’re not wearing any underwear. He stares at you, and you nudge him. “We don’t have enough time to take this slow.” You tell him. “let’s do this and get it over with.”

“You’re so crass sometimes.” He said, pulling you to the edge of the desk. “Yes well it gets the job done.” He dives between your legs and begins his work. Yours is a taste unlike any of the other women he’s had. He’s sure it’s because he likes you best. You’re quiet pleasure shown by your actions. The rocking of your hips, the tangle of your hands in his hair, and that sweet little smile as he sucks your clit into his mouth. No annoying moans to cover up, no irritating platitudes to ignore, just you, just him, just perfection.

           The indication that your close as he lavishes your clit is how silent you go. He sucks on it harder, giving a few flicks with his tongue when a knock on the door startles you both. Thinking quickly, you jump from the desk and shut off the light. For a few beats you listen to the chatter outside the door. Ivar can’t hear anything, but you hadn’t moved, so he figured it wasn’t something to be too worried about. “Well shit,” You mutter. “Looks like the party’s over.” Ivar chuckles, looking at your shape in the dark. “There’s always next time.”


End file.
